Impulse
by CapriceSesh
Summary: Written for the prompt 'The first time Vala fell in love with...' The time between Prometheus Unbound and Avalon saw a shift in Vala's character. This is my take on what caused that.


_Impulse_

_By_

_Caprice_

_This was all his fault. Him with his blue eyes, that tuft of hair that stuck up in the air, that tight black top stretched over that… body, and those strong bare arms, and the promise of what was in those baggy black pants…_

'Stop it. Get a hold of yourself. He's just a male. There are plenty of them around.'

Vala gazed at the selection of males walking past her: too short, too bald, too fat, too skinny, too old, too many teeth missing. She grimaced. Not even Qetesh would have sampled any of the males on Bogworld, and she had been _anything_ but picky.

_Concentrate on what you're doing. Pick a target, sell them a share in the con—_opportunity of a lifetime—_and get as far away as possible from this sponge of a planet._

She shifted uncomfortably, her backside numb, back aching from being perched on a rock, half-concealed behind an old woman and her barrow full of root vegetables. From here she could see the traders in the market, suss out who was prospering, who had coin or goods to trade, and hopefully select her target.

Another gust of wind, chill with a promise of snow, swept past. A faint shiver was shaking her bones and she huddled into the stinky woollen cape she'd appropriated from a back shed two lanes over. Leather might look fantastic and show off a girl's attributes to the extent of distracting a trading partner, but it sure didn't keep you warm.

How did it all go so wrong? She'd been so firmly in control of her affairs for ages, moved from one scheme to the next, accumulating the odd cache of loot here, set up a ripe chump ready to be fleeced there… Plan after plan had worked – more or less. Her connections and contacts were widening – mostly. The plan to exchange the Al'kesh for Tenat's naquada had taken weeks of planning. Lining up the decoy cargo ship had been the easy part. The Kull warrior's outfit had been a bonus, although scraping that guy out of it had been one of the ickier things she'd ever done.

And that Tau'ri ship had come along at just the right time, presenting itself for the picking. It should have been so easy.

Except for him.

Daniel Jackson. He was brave, she'd allow him that. Standing up to a Kull warrior with just a zat was not something your average male would have done. The look on his face when she'd told him he was very attractive – priceless. But in the end he'd proved much more wily than she had thought, and she'd bended up with no deal, a broken Al'kesh and a certain buyer who was searching the entire Anethis quadrant looking for her. There was always the backup plan on Ketana – she just had to acquire enough capital to get there. The scrap price for the Al'kesh should have, would have, been enough.

But.

It was all his fault.

She'd only had to walk from the scrap merchant's warehouse to the shack that was laughingly referred to as the passenger terminal at the moderately solid scrap of earth doing duty as a landing field. If this planet had ever possessed a Stargate it no longer existed: no doubt it had sunk into the primordial ooze millennia ago.

She'd got so close. Just outside the landing field's broken fence, only minutes away from escaping Spongeworld. She'd heard someone crying.

Usually she would have kept walking. Not because she was inured to the misfortunes of others, the Powers knew most people on most worlds lived hard lives, but she was having trouble enough keeping her own head above the slime – not to mention on her actual shoulders – that seemed to surround her life, without taking on somebody else's woes.

But.

She'd stopped. The sound was coming from a decrepit gate, cast in deep shadow. A quick glance behind and around the deserted street for hidden accomplices – all clear. The sobbing was muffled, the person trying vainly to be quiet and avoid detection.

'Uh, hi there?' She inched closer, one hand on the knife in her pocket. 'I heard crying.' Hmm, that probably sounded more like an accusation than an offer of help.

An indrawn breath was the only answer.

'It's okay. I won't hurt you.' _Unless you try anything. _What else did one say to upset strangers? Why did people sit in dark gateways crying? 'Are you lost? I'll bet you're lost! I'm great at giving directions. Where do you want to go?'

She inched closer and could make out a huddled figure against the broken wood of the gate. Skinny arms wrapped around even skinnier knees, hands knobbled and bruised with hard labour, tousled head thrown back, he – she was almost certain he was a he – stared at her through wary, tear-filled eyes.

'Go away.'

'No, really. I'm a whiz at telling people where to go. Try me!' She barred her teeth in that friendly smile she'd been practising

He didn't seem to like it. He flinched. 'I'm not lost.'

'Oh.' Well, she was out of ideas, then. She backed away. Time to get going.

'He threw me out.'

Vala paused. The landing field office was just down the street. She could see it from here. So close.

'My father threw me out of our house.'

'Aha! You're so happy to have your freedom you're crying tears of joy – yes?'

'What? No!'

'Oh. Well, you're going to have to tell me what is wrong because I have absolutely no idea,' she said brightly. She nodded encouragingly at him. Even tried another smile.

His face twisted into a snarl. 'You want to know what's wrong? Okay – how's this. I'm fourteen. My father threw me out of the house because he says I'm too old to whore out to his friends anymore and he can't justify the expense of keeping me fed. My mother won't even notice I'm gone for months, she so addled on parsey-root. They were the only two people I know. I have no family, no friends and there's sure nobody else on this stinking mudhole that gives a damn about the likes of me. So excuse me for being upset. I guess someone like you wouldn't spare a thought for what it's like to be me.'

Rain began to patter down on them, soft tinkly gurgles that did nothing to dull the hurtful echoes of the past.

Vala pulled out a scrap of paper, scribbled a quick note, then wrapped it around the credit chits she'd sold the Al'kesh for. She thrust it into the boy's hand.

He examined it, suspicious, ready to throw it away. Then he gaped at her.

Irritated, she stood and strode away for a few paces. 'There's a ship leaving today. The monks at the abbey will take you in. You'll be safe.'

'What's in it for you?'

The usual line about sowing seed for favours in the future hovered on her lips. Died there. 'Nothing.'

'I…' He was on his feet, inching away.

'Hurry up.'

He sprinted off toward the landing field. At the main gate he paused. She caught him staring back at her, then he was gone, leaving only an impression of vivid blue eyes.

'Well.'

The rain began to beat down harder.

She should feel cross. She should be examining what just happened, make sure she hadn't just been conned. Should be annoyed that her plans were ruined and she was stuck on Bogworld without a credit to her name.

But she felt none of that.

Odd.

Instead, she felt… happy? Not exactly. Pleased? There was a nice warm glow deep down inside – never felt that before. Pride? Yes, maybe that was it. Huh.

She headed back toward the main street, head a little higher, back a bit straighter.

Probably shouldn't let this develop into a habit. Still, she felt good. She didn't believe in signs or portents, but if helping someone for no personal gain made her feel this wonderful, imagine how fantastic she'd feel if she helped someone and got a slice of the action too.

Maybe that's what _he_ did – Daniel. Maybe they could help each other.

A laugh escaped her lips, startled her and the man she was passing at the same time.

Right then. Helping people was her new calling. And there was always Arlos and his little stash of trinkets. Perfect. She'd let him help her on her way to Daniel, and everybody would feel this wonderful.

Whistling, Vala headed for the marketplace.

* * *

**Written for the Women of the Gate lj ficathon on gate_women**


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